Page 56 of The Fixer

With one last trip around the block, to ensure the tail I was sure was following us was nowhere in sight, I pulled into my parking garage and ushered Eliza upstairs to my door as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to draw her attention to the unease that sat heavy on my heart since we’d left the shelter. I didn’t want her to worry about the growing threat. I needed her to heal, to be strong. And I worried, if I told her about the cars that’d been following us, she’d only break.

While I cooked, Eliza changed into the old t-shirt I’d given her the first night she was here. And my mind was anywhere but on the food I was eating all through our meal. Her bare shoulder peeked out the collar, her toned legs were barely covered by the fabric of the shirt. I tasted nothing while I dreamed of tasting her. Wanted nothing but to know the flavor of her skin.

After we’d eaten and cleaned up, Eliza gave a stretch. And fuck, I couldn’t help the depraved thoughts that raced through my head. Picturing the shirt that was creeping up her thighs going even higher, revealing more of those fucking freckles that covered her everywhere. I prowled toward her, and she gave a squeak before turning, a huge smile on her face as she looked back at me while she raced away.

Laughter calling.

Sweet body begging to be filled.

At the doorway to her room, I saw her leap onto her bed, flipping over and grinning at me like a child. Pure innocence, this girl. Her naiveté staggering, so unaware of the monster in her room. She stretched out over the bed, her legs going for miles with that shirt hitched up.

I wanted her. Damn the consequences. Damn me to hell for thinking this way and not having a single fuck to give. This girl, she was mine in every way that counted. Woven into my very being from the first moment she fell into my arms.

Eyes widening, she watched me come closer, her thighs pressing together as she squirmed toward the head of the bed. I reached for her, a rough hand raking over the smoothness of her skin, inching higher as she gasped, her knees falling open as she opened her guard.

But the world had a different idea for how our night would go. There would be no fucking, no pressing my aching cock into the sweet cradle of her hips, no tasting the goodness that oozed from her pores as I listened to decadent sounds falling from her lips. There would be no pleasure, and with it, no pain. Nothing but a reminder, she wasn’t mine to have.

“Oh!” Eliza jumped, my hand falling from her thigh as she whipped her head toward the table that held her phone. The thing trilled incessantly, and that smile fell from her lips as her brow dipped low. She grabbed it, turning her chocolate eyes to me. “It’s Brooke.”

Dread, heavy and taxing, flooded my chest. Forcing a smile, I sat on the edge of the bed. “You should get that.”

“Are you sure?”

I tilted my head, giving it a slight shake. “She’s your friend, Eliza. Never turn your back on your friends for anyone, especially not me.”

Even as she lifted the phone to her ear, Eliza reached out and took my hand from the mattress beside her leg, gripping me tight as if giving me her thanks. “Hey, honey!”

Brooke’s voice rose above whatever cacophony swirled around her on the other end of the line. “Eliza? Thank God!”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her fingers tightening on my own.

“There’s a hurricane coming,” came the voice on the phone. There was a muffled gibberish followed by, “Evacuating to a shelter. The airport’s shut down and I don’t know when we’ll be able to leave.”

“Oh, no!”

“—Liza, the gala. I need you to call Meg. I need you to help her out. I don’t think I’m going to—” The phone cut to silence, then Brooke’s voice came back. “—can’t do it by herself. Promise me—”

“I promise,” Eliza rushed out. “I’ll do everything I can. But what about you?”

“—be okay. Eliza, I have to go. The vans are here to take—shelter. I’ll call as soon as I can.”

“Be safe!” Eliza called, but there was no telling if her friend heard her plea. Eliza lowered the phone to her lap, worry close to terror storming in her eyes. “Jet?”

Nothing in the world could have stopped me from scooping her up, trying to take that worry from her voice. “It’s okay, sweet girl. She’ll be okay.”

“But what if she’s not?”

“Don’t think like that,” I said, smoothing a hand over her head before my fingers dove in and tangled in her hair. “Brooke will be fine. Where they are, they’re used to weather like this. Everything will be fine, and she’ll be home just as soon as she can.”

“Jet.” Eliza’s fingers dug into me, clawing up my chest. The skin beneath my shirt burned with pain, with an ache so harsh I couldn’t suck in a breath. But through the thundering sound of my heart pounding in my ears, I heard Eliza whimper, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

“You’re not losing anyone,” I promised, though the words felt like a lance to the chest, scraping along the path her hands took. “They’ll be safe. And I’m right here. I’ve got you, and I’ll never let you go.”

14

Jet

Even with the full backing and support of Paulo D’Angelo, there was no getting Brooke and her fiancé out of the path of the hurricane and back to the relative safety of New York. That didn’t mean I didn’t try everything in my power to move those mountains that wouldn’t budge. To try to give Eliza the peace of mind she craved.